Redemption Through Fire
by Viable-Solution
Summary: The planet of Nambosa, a large largely agricultural world with few large cities is under seige from a major Ork WAAAGH! Sergeant Damion Secerno of the Shadow Dragons fifth is caught in the middle of conflict, fear, and the promise of redemption from sin.
1. Trials of Faith

**Scout Damion jumped** over another large rock that lay in the middle of the endless desert. He slung his bolter and looked at the other five members of his squad. They walked at a somewhat casual pace, constantly scanning the area for the beast which they had been looking the entire day for. They had killed small animals through the day to keep themselves in food, but they were running out of water to keep cool in the heat. He stared up at the sky for a moment, watching as the last rays of light rained down on the ground, the world's two moons slowly rising over them.

"Sebastian, any sign of which direction we will need to begin moving to get back to the fortress?" Damion asked looking back at his dark skinned battle brother. Running a messed glove through his own dirty blond hair, his blue eyes scanning behind the other scouts.

"No Damion, nothing," Sebastian shook his head and closed his eyes. He had grown up on the planet of Valus III, a barren desert death world. Sebastian had better sight than any of the scouts in the group, and he was also an excellent tracker. His sniper rifle's barrel pointed at the sky as he took a deep breath and observed the others.

"Then lets keep moving...until we find one of the beasts than we have no reason to find a way to go," He took a few steps forward before he stopped, looking back at another that was farther behind "Marcus?"

Marcus was the shortest of the group, but was also the fastest. He had an excellent combat record, was an excellent shot, and absolutely terrifying in close quarters. He looked at Damion and then at the other scouts "We should be getting close...but we haven't seen one, even felt the tremors, it seems odd..."

"We must not be in the right place..." Damion looked back at the sky as the stars became apparent "we'll just have to pray that the Emperor sees us fit to pass our trials..."

They all nodded and then continued moving in the direction they had been moving in originally. The possibility that they were heading in the wrong direction continued to replay itself through Damion's head as he continued to move one foot in front of the other. Damion had grown up on Venator V like a large majority of the Shadow Dragons, however he had grown up in one of the more popularized areas within one of the few forests that were inhabitable. While the planet was effectively four parts, there were other elements of terrain than the larger ones. The jungles were harsh, demanding areas, perfect for training a space marine scout. The mountains provided defensive structures, and proved one of the greatest challenges initiates would go through. The desert and tundras were the harshest of these enviroments for different reasons. The desert was the closest thing that a human being could get to hell, the constant heat pounding down was unbearable to anything less than an Astartes warrior. The Tundras were just frozen waste lands that were used by only the most fool hearty outlaws to hide from men who wanted them dead.

Damion had grown with his father whom taught him how to fight brutally. His father was one of the most sinful of the guardsmen. He had served in the Venator One-Hundred and Eighth, but died in combat when the regiment was taken out to go to war. He had been accused of murdering an officer in cold blood in one of the most brutal fashions. He had also been a ganger in his teenage years, several markings had been scrawled across his body. He was by no means a traitor or heretic, and for unknown reasons he was left with a sentence on Venator V. When Damion had been born, his father had taught him everything he had known before the Shadow Dragons came for their next recruitment. Damion then learned to fight with the Astartes through his training. Damion had killed men before, even charged with the same actions his father had committed. Murder. The marines had offered him redemption for his actions six years ago when he was twelve, and he had taken their offer.

Damion was an honorable man, as was his father, but sins were passed down onto the shoulders of the children of those who committed them, and only through the work of the Emperor were most forgivable. The Shadow Dragons chaplains had preached of redemption, honor, and the righteous purging of the Emperor's enemies. If there were anyone in the squad that were faithful to the bones it would be Damion. It was not uncommon for recruits to bare the sins of their fathers on their shoulders, but it was un common for the nearly unforgivable to be among the Shadow Dragon ranks.

"Wait..." Sebastian stopped the group and looked intently in one direction "tremor, there," he pointed to a spot of rising and shrinking sand "contact..." he started to back up slowly, raising his sniper rifle and keeping track of the steadily quickening tremors. Without warning there was a burst of sand and a rattle of gunfire.

Damion twisted his head to see that the beast, the Wyvern, they had been looking for had come from one direction and attacked from another. He leveled his bolter and fired a quick burst as it began to bury itself back into the sand, screeching as a bolt tore through the back of it's hide and detonated. The squad spread out as to not be easy targets, constantly searching for signs of the red-brown creature. When non were immediately apparent one of the scouts, scout Tyson turned to face Damion and started to move forward when the sand erupted in front of him and he was thrown back in half as the creatures bladed tail sliced horizontally through his body. It paused and looked at its dying enemy before turning to face the others who were beginning to move. Damion paused as he felt the hate filled red eyes of the Wyvern fall on him. It's two front arms moved and turned its body, its wings unfolding from it's back as it did. Its angular face drew close to the ground for a moment, lettings its maw open up to reveal rows upon rows of sharp triangle teeth. It's tail suddenly raised into the air and its entire body haunched as it threw itself into the air above the squad. Damion quickly dove out of the way as it's body twisted and turned towards the earth, coming down like a drill bit back into the sand. Damion looked out towards Tyson who had attempted to reach his bolter, only to be swallowed by the Wyvern before he could fire. Damion's anger began to rise and he started to move towards it before stopping.

"Blind anger gets everyone no where fast..." he collected himself with a breath and pointed to Sebastian as he spotted a large rock "Post up on top of that rock and provide support fire! Only pull the trigger when a clear shot shows itself!"

Sebastian nodded and began to run to the position indicated. Damion turned his attention to Marcus and the remaining scouts "Marcus, Elliot, Avery! Be quick and do not stop moving! Even to fire! When the Wyvern shows itself make sure it focuses on us and not Sebastian! Take only moving shots, accurate or not!"

As he spoke another tremor showed and erupted to his right, causing him to dive and narrowly avoid being hit with the spiked end of the creature's tail. He raised his bolter and fired a burst, none of his shots hitting. Before he could fire again it lunged at him, maw gaping and ready to devour him. Shots came from its left and plunged deep into it's side. This bought enough time for Damion to get onto his feet and begin darting away. The Wyvern snarled and screeched as more shots tore into it. It's wings unfolded again and it flew into the air for only a few seconds before diving towards Marcus and Elliot. They both dove away and the Wyvern halted its fall, its wings spreading and pushing air against the ground with every flap of it's wings.

"Sebastian! Do you have a shot?!" Damion demanded over the vox as he took aim and opened fire, moving as he did so.

"Negative, no good shot has presented itself,"

Damion cussed and thought. The Wyvern was strong, and it was aggressive. Had it been Sebastian alone he would have been killed nearly from the start. But like most creatures of instinct, it had a fatal weakness. Two known to be fatal, at least. One was the crest that rested on top of it's head, while it was solid bone, and only the males had them, some were quite huge. The weakness lying within that feature were the two holes that were left in the back of the skull, leaving it to the hardened skin to protect the brain and keep the liquids from coming out. The second was a spot underneath its jaw. If a shot presented itself to its bottom jaw, it would lead straight to it's brain.

Observing the damage a creature could take before dying was always a source of wonder for Damion, as how they reacted to damage. The Wyvern had lost several large chunks out of its muscled body, yet it continued to move, continuing to get more furious instead of worn. He continued to run, listening to the screeches and bolter fire. The sight of the winged beast soaring into the air before spiraling down into the sand continued to replay itself, and not once had Sebastian proclaimed he had the shot, nor had his rifle proclaimed for him. The scouts were starting to run low on ammo, even with their sparred bursts. Finally, the Wyvern flew into the air and angled downward, tucking its wings and arms in as it spiraled down towards Avery.

**Sebastian looked through** his sniper scope as he watched the events unfold. Constantly paying attention to it's motions he tried to time multiple shots, but never did he fire. There was a pattern in how it attacked, when it attacked, and he had figured it out. When performing a dive the Wyvern performed six to seven spirals before hitting the ground, each taking about a second to complete. As it angled towards his squad mate he took sight once more, aiming for the weak spot on its throat. It soared closer and closer to Avery as he followed Sebastian's order to become a target for the beast. At the last possible second Sebastian pulled the trigger and felt the rifle's buck as it pumped against his shoulder, the projectile soaring through the air and into the intended mark. Avery dove as the Wyvern lost it's grace and fell to the ground, writhing in immense pain and anger. The squad seemed to tense even more as it continued to move, but they relaxed as they aimed and strafed the dead monster's body with quick bursts of their bolters, ensuring it wasn't going to get back up.

"I thought you were never going to take a shot," Avery released a held breath as he extended an arm towards Sebastian who had run to their now deceased prize. Sebastian extended his arm and clutched Avery's forearm firmly, nodding.

Avery was like Sebastian, dark skinned and used to near death situations. He had grown up on the same planet as Sebastian, Valus III. Sebastian closed his eyes as he released the other scout's arm and reminisced about the death world he had once called home. There were multiple villages which fought each other constantly over whatever resources they had. Avery had been part of one of the more powerful villages, while Sebastian had been in one of the lesser tribes and had become used to the constant stress of being relied upon. Damion did not seem so relieved as he approached the two. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped and gave an uneasy smile.

"Excellant shot brother, now all thats left is to go home,"

"But what about Tyson?" Elliot asked walking forward after looking over the body.

"We tell of his death...and let him have the honor that he rightfulley deserves," Damion responded looking over to where the upper half of the scouts body used to be.

They all nodded and looked over at the body "Its time to gather what we came for..."

They gathered around the corpse and took out their large combat knives, thrusting them into separate sections of the body, cutting large holes in it's hide. Sebastian took one of it's ribs and looked at it. Wyvern's bone was extremely strong and durable, which is why it is valued as knife blades. There were hundreds of styles of knives which were made from this bone, changing with each marine's history. It was a wonder to watch the difference of two marine's blades, some were as graceful as they were deadly, long and curved with little deviation of its rhythm. Others were more gothic, or exotic. Knives belonging to marines with roots on Venator V had large blades, often serrated with gothic patterns etched into the bone.

They all took what they needed and after a short discussion of what should be done, and agreed that they would head in the direction in which the sun rises, towards the mountains of Venator V.

**_A/N: This is more of a prologue than anything, but I still consider it a full chapter. Hope that you enjoy the story of my Shadow Dragons. Please rate and review._**

**_Viable-Solution_**


	2. Calm Before The Storm

**Sergeant Damion Secerno **knelt in silent prayer to the statue of the immortal emperor in front of him. All was quiet in the large chamber, and only those who maintained the objects in the room silently ferried themselves from place to place on swift feet, loathing the thought of disturbing the Shadow Dragon's sergeant. It had been roughly one hundred years since he had become a full battle brother of the Shadow Dragons with the remaining scouts of his squad. Sebastian had remained a scout sniper, as his skills were too valuable to give to even the devastators of his company. Marcus had become an assault marine, and Avery and Elliot had been deemed a tactical marine along with Damion. They, as a squad, had been transferred to the Fifth company who, at the time, needed the reimbursement of marines. Damion heard the large doors of the chapel swing open and slam heavily shut as familiar foot steps grew closer.

"Brother Damion, I should have suspected you to be here around this hour of the day," Chaplain Alexander spoke softly as he bowed before the Emperor and nodded to the figure knelt in front of it.

"Sometimes even staying through the night does not help calm my soul Father Alexander..." Damion admitted as he slowly stood back onto his feet, climbing to his full height "and more often than not the feel of a bolter is the only release,"

Alexander thought carefully, his wise old eyes scanning Damion as if reading a piece of parchment "As is the case with many Dragons Damion, others prefer the shudder of a chain sword over the calm of the chapel, you happen to balance the two," a small chuckle escaped his experienced face.

"I suppose...I have seen the more reckless battle brothers in this company Father, yet even they come here to settle fears and worries...and doubt..." he turned to look at the golden statue

Damion had grown from his previous height as a scout marine. He was now fully three meters in height, as most other marines, with the exception of the still small Marcus who was roughly two and a half meters if lucky. He had dark brown hair which hung half way down to his storm gray eyes. Over the years he had acquired multiple scars, including one running vertically down his left eye with another cutting a cross into his right cheek. Had he not been wearing his armor, the criss crossing marks of combat would have been seen from any distance, as they engulfed his body from the relatively few number of years serving his chapter. His armor was a mix of dark red and gray, the red being on his arms and hands, as well as his helmet (when worn). His thighs and feet were also this red, as was his backpack, while his elbows, shoulder pads, parts of his helmet, and lower legs were a dark gray. His knee pads and shoulder trim were a charcoal gray.

The chaplain standing next to him was anything but a shadow. His black armor was outlined by the gold trim and bone white skull that was his helmet and right shoulder pad. Purity seals littered his armor and a crux terminatus hung from a large necklace along with several other trinkets which declared his position and faith, as did others hanging on his belt. The Crozius Arcanum, his ancient holy mauling club, lay easily against his leg, attached to a chain which was attached to the right side of his belt, ready to be used when needed. The chaplain was an aged man, easily in his four hundreds, if not four hundred and fifties. His hair was pure black and his skin was a pale white, his black eyes piercing anything they looked at.

The image of the chaplain were a result of their gene-seed. When the chapter was created, the use of the Raven Guard's gene-seed brought with it inconsistencies which denied the chapter use of at least four different organs which were given to them during their transformation into marines. The Dragons were, none the less, proud to have been conceived through the Raven Guard. It gave them a sense of identity compared to a chapter founded of the Ultramarines or Imperial Fists, two more prominent first founding chapters.

"Well Damion, even a beast must have silence at times," another dry chuckle came from Alexander as he turned and began to walk towards the large steel doors "come brother sergeant, the captain would like to speak with his squad sergeants before beginning our operation,"

Damion nodded and picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm as he followed the chaplain silently.

**Within the corridors** of the _Seventh Trumpet_, stillness seemed to be a faint memory from its construction hundreds of years prior to when Damion was even born. Serfs were always rushing through to meet the needs of their superiors and marines calmly treaded through on their way to the chapel, armory, or any other part of the ship, side stepping the eventual serf. Damion watched as things seemed more rushed than usual, and knew automatically that something must have happened to the plans that had been drawn out barely five hours prior.

"I agree...but is it possible to station all of our men here?" Captain Lycurgus's voice calmly asked the more intense voice of Captain Mattius of the Shadow Dragon's fourth company.

"Yes it is, the pass is narrow but it is the only way they can get to the cities in their projected path!" stated Mattius.

"Even so, it is not wise to place all three of our companies in the way of the advancing Orks..." the, more collected but still stressed, voice of Captain Orion stated with a deep breath "these Orks are taking a too easily predictable path, it is only logical to assume there is something guiding them other than pure lust for battle, if that were the case it would be a more random series of attacks..."

"Are you saying another force is manipulating these simple creatures?" a tactical sergeant asked, seeming to be intrigued.

"Maybe not directly...but there is defiantly something happening that is forcing the Orks to go this way..." Orion replied with a hint of exhaustion in his voice "our librarians, as you know, have been studying the reports of attacks from the planet surface as we had been drawing closer...and it seems they are both losing and gaining numbers as they go,"

"It would be logical, Orks are simple creatures and any promise of war and death gives them the motivation needed to take a path like this,"

"Maybe they are afraid of something?" a grizzled devastator veteran growled with a sense of superiority which was quickly knocked away by the glares of other marines.

"Do not be a fool...Orks are scared of nothing," another replied.

Damion entered the room and the three captains stood thoughtfully. The _Seventh Trumpet_ had dropped out of the warp with the other two Shadow Dragon's battle barges belonging to the third and fourth companies. A group of sergeants from each company sat in the circular room as the Captains debated. Lycurgus looked behind him at the sound of the dual thumping, easily recognizable as Space Marine foot steps. He smiled and nodded towards Alexander and Damion as they found seats and took them.

"Well it seems we have a dilemma..." Mattius grunted and looked among the assorted space marines. Sergeants from tactical squads, devastator squads, assault squads, and even scout squads sat in the same room, proudly wearing their companies colors and the uniform silhouetted wyvern on their left shoulder.

"Damion, Alexander...how good of you to join us," Lycurgus finally noted the entrance of the two marines. They both nodded and Orion smiled and took a deep breath, showing his frustration while keeping a calm collected form. A nameless serf ran up beside him and handed the seasoned Captain a data pad, making him frown as he handed it to Mattius then to Lycurgus.

"Alright, this is the situation as of thirty seconds ago," Orion took the opportunity to begin speaking "this is a topographical map of the entire continent of Tyros...as you can see by the map, the Orks are moving south west towards this pass, it is barely large enough to fit two land raiders side by side. It is narrow and will provide a choke point which can be used to funnel them to their deaths,"

Lycurgus took it from there "The pass is only large enough for so many marines to fight in, so squads will be split between the guarding of this pass, and the defense of what lies beyond it..."

Mattius stayed silent as his battle brothers continued with their slowly forming plan. Orion and Lycurgus had fought with each other multiple times across their service together, and knew the others tactics better than Mattius. Compared to the two veteran captains, Mattius was still young, and was relatively new to holding the rank he had. The two others knew it, and while they considered him young and ambitious, in combat and the planning room they respected him as a valuable soldier and instrument as was every other marine or guardsmen.

Orion nodded and let Lycurgus continue, they were going through the previously thought out plan until they needed to deviate based on recent events. "Only devastators and tactical marines will be stationed here, along with approximately seven hundred and fifty guardsmen of the Two hundred and fifth Nambosa regiment,"

This was where the situation had changed. The plan had recently demanded a slow push forward with every battle, however with a new report of numbers and armor, as well as a secondary path that they had recently found irrelevant, they were forced to change.

"This is where we are unsure as to our course of action..." Mattius felt a smile crease his face as he once more began to speak "this path right here leads behind the lines which we would be defending, now the Orks are too stupid to come from here...however it is something that can not be ignored..."

"Also, it is becoming apparent that not only will advance be nearly impossible, which forces us to entrench in this position and let them attempt to get through...with properly constructed and maintained barriers and bolter fire, they should just continuously wear themselves down to the point where they are no more than a war band..." Orion's voice carried a sort of optimism as he relished the thought. Orion was a strong marine, however his left arm had been cleaved from his body violently in a conflict with Orks, and his company had suffered for years afterwards as losses slowly began to take place. Though it was natural for all marines to feel hatred towards the enemies of the Imperium, Orion seemed to despise the simple creatures.

"Are there any suggestions?" Lycurgus asked turning to face the assortment of sergeants.

"Yes, how about the assault marines hold the pass?" came the familiar voice of Marcus Urteil.

There was silence as the Captains looked at each other "What would be the benefit of that Brother Marcus?" Lycurgus asked turning to face the marine.

Marcus stood as he looked down at his Captain "Sir, in that pathway close combat will surely be unavoidable, two, three, even four squads of assault marines with a few squads of guardsmen can hold the path and protect the rest of the pass defense force,"

"I agree, it makes sense to let the Assault marines protect this area, brother, you realize that bolters must be had to effectively hold your own in a ranged fire fight?" Mattius asked turning, his cape twisting around his legs before relaxing behind him once more.

"That won't be a problem brother Captain," Marcus nodded in acknowledgment "we are more than capable of packing our gear a little heavier than we usually do, not to mention the guardsmen will provide valuable ranged fire power,"

"Very well..." Mattius replied, seeming to be satisfied with Marcus's answer.

"Captain Lycurgus," a blue armored figure walked calmly into the room "the thunderhawks are ready to transport the first of our troops to the space port by the cities and the drop pods are being prepared for those dropping directly into the path of the horde,"

"Thank you Brother-Librarian Jacob," Captain Lycurgus replied with a nod "any word on the guardsmen who are supposed to be fighting beside us?"

"The first part of the group on the way to the Tyros pass is there and beginning to set up defensive structures according to your specifications, and they are excellently supplied," the Librarian nodded and looked around the room "however, it will not be long before Orks are upon them, but even Ork scouting parties are vicious and the guardsmen will only be able to hold out for so long before the full brunt of the horde comes within the next several hours,"

"Then time is of the essence," Orion nodded and walked out without another word.

"Yes...yes it is...Sergeant Secerno," Lycurgus turned to face Damion "gather your squad and get to a drop pod, you and squads Leviticus, Hygra, and Rykan will be with you in the drop,"

Damion let a grin come across his face as he heard the names of Elliot Hygra and Avery Rykan play through his ears. Sergeant Leviticus was a battle brother that Damion had fought with before, but he was not as familiar with him as he was Elliot or Avery. He rose from his seat and looked at chaplain Alexander "Coming Father?"

"Only with my Captains blessings," replied the seasoned man.

"No, you are required with me for the time being Father," the Captain nodded towards Damion and Alexander "However, Brother Librarian Jacob will be with you, is that acceptable Sergeant?" Lycurgus asked already knowing the answer.

"Of course Captain, Emperor be with you in your endevours," Damion bowed in courtesy as he walked out with the Librarian.

"And may he put strength in yours, Sergeant,"

**Brother Librarian Jacob** silently watched his brothers prepare themselves for combat. Uttering prayers to the Emperor, loading their bolters, or merely staring out the docking bay door at the planet below them. The devastators of squad Leviticus checked their bolt pistols and grabbed their chosen heavy weapons. Two of the six had chosen missile launchers, one had chosen a las cannon, while the remaining two picked up their heavy bolters. Sergeant Leviticus being armed only with his bolter, chainsword, and bolt pistol. Without a word they loaded into their drop pod and set their weapons aside, securing themselves and silently waiting for the battle to begin.

Most of the devastators in the Shadow Dragons exercised a customary silence in the calm before a battle, saving their anxiousness for the battle where silence is anything but present. It was not uncommon for the devastators to be easily identifiable in battle, if not for the large weapons, they shouted litanies of hate taught to them from the time they were scouts at the enemy, writings of battles and litanies scribed their arms, legs, and shoulders, and some bore tribal markings from their home world. At any given chance, there were hundreds of different writings or marks in one squad at a time.

Jacob watched Damion walk through the launch chamber with a sort of aura around him, commanding the marines under his command and wishing the sergeants of the other squads courage and honor. Damion seemed to look forward to the fires of combat, but the stress in his walk and facial features were plain as day to the Librarian, especially Father Alexander. Damion had belonged to a family of condemned men, his own father committing the act of murder, and later after being transferred to Verona V had he committed rape. What resulted was Damion. The woman was killed shorty after his birth, at least that what was shown on imperial records, and so was his father shortly before the younger chaplain Alexander had noticed the boy and offered him a chance of redemption for his un deserved sins. The Librarian was older than Damion, but younger than Alexander, and he remembered when he first set his eyes on the young boy that was now a proud space marine of the Adeptus Astartes.

"Brother Librarian, are you prepared?" Damion asked as he stopped in front of the blue armored warrior.

"Of course brother Damion," Jacob humbly responded with a curt bow "I always will be, for the good of the imperium and in the service of the Emperor,"

"Thats good to know, we are ready to depart, find a drop pod and get secured, we will be dropping shortly..."

Jacob curtly nodded and walked calmly to a drop pod which would eventually hold Damion's squad as well. He reached behind him at his waist and felt for his sword, smiling as grasped the hilt firmly. The sword was in a sheath horizontally, strapped across his waist just below his butt plate. The sword had been with him for an extremely long time. Since his induction to the Librarium of the Shadow Dragons. He latched himself in and sat quietly, bowing his head as more battle brothers filed into the pod and secured their gear. A war was about to be raged, and silence was revered by many in the chapter. Images flashed through Jacob's head, images of broken bodies, rivers of blood, fires raging through cities. His hearts sped up before being forced to slow down. The images continued, figures flooding over hills and destroyed buildings, crushing all in their path, mutilating the corpses of fallen marines and guardsmen. Jacob slowly realized his eyes were closed and he opened them to the curious face of Sergeant Damion Secerno looking at him.

"Are you okay Brother Librarian?" he asked stepping into the pod.

"Yes Brother Damion...I am just anxious for the oncoming battle,"

"As we all are..." Damion nodded and found a spot "Through the fire and flames we prevail..." he muttered as the hatch slammed shut.

**Guardsmen Adrien Steele** grunted as he hefted a sandbag onto the already large pile. They had been working on the barriers and gun emplacements to help fend off the Orks. The day had started off rough and only gotten worse. Soldiers were almost collapsing from the exhaustion of preparation, and others were getting angered at the fact that the Space Marines had not come to their aid in the defense of the pass. Personally Steele didn't care, a fight was a fight and nothing more. He didn't have anyone to worry about, he had always been a loner and the Imperial Guard seemed to be the right place to be to fight without being reprimanded by some city PD. Taking a seat behind his heavy bolter turret he grinned and grabbed a bac-stic, lighting it and taking a slow intake, letting the smoke filter through his mouth as he pulled it away.

"Steele, what the hell are you doing?" came the voice of Ivan Salem, accompanied by a laugh.

"Nothin Salem, just smokin some before getting back to work," Steele took another drag of his stick before blowing the smoke out and taking a fresher breath of air, staring out over the soon to be battlefield.

Steele was a man in his early thirties, short cut black hair and scars sat on his head. He was nearly five foot eleven inches tall and had a strong build. In contrast Salem was almost the exact opposite. He was short, barely reaching five foot seven, had long blond hair, and was fairly slim and wiry. Unlike the townies and punks who tried to talk shit but never followed up, Salem was a man who knew how to hit someone where it hurt. The twenty two year old man was Steele's spotter and despite some slight personality differences, he was glad to have the kid with him. Steele took a single drag from the stick before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out with his boot.

"Well, got any news?" Steele finally asked, noticing that Salem seemed more alert than the previous times they had a chance to rest.

Orks had attacked a couple of times, but they were just over eager young who wanted to earn some glory with some scars. But now it seemed that Salem knew something he didn't.

"Orks...reported coming in force this way, looks like we'll have to do this first one without the Marines..." he picked up his las gun and took a seat behind the entrenchment, scanning the area with a pair of binoculars, constantly going from them to his auspects in an attempt to find targets, but nothing happened.

"I seriously doubt that those simple green skins can..." Steele got up and began to move when an explosion rocked the ground in front of them, spraying rock and dirt into their faces.

Screams could be heard as gunfire racked across the line of guardsmen working on their own entrenchments and defenses. Response fire was quick to come and las bolts were soon flying into the tide of green. Steele hopped onto the gun and pulled back the charging pin, loading a seventy five caliber shell into the chamber.

"No need for me to get you a target! Just fire!" Salem yelled as he ducked, a burst of slugs hitting the sandbag in front of him, one or two managing to get through and hit the ones behind them.

Steele didn't say a word, pulling the trigger and feeling the constant thumps of the heavy bolter as yellow streaks flew through the air and hammered into Orks, blowing chunks out of skin and severing limbs. Soon the other guns of the guardsmen were firing into the green mass, taking down Ork after Ork. There seemed to be hope as the horde seemed to stop advancing, momentarily stunned by the sudden barrage, but that was soon overcome with anger as they charged forward with a menacing "WAAAAAAAGH!"

"Shit here they come!" Steele gridded his teeth together as Salem finished re loading his turret. Pulling the slide back he found himself staring skyward as several dark red drop pods slammed down in front of the Imperial position.

"Space Marines! Bout bloody fuckin time!" Steele grinned as he heard someone state the obvious.

"Orks are corpses now," Steele seemed to relax slightly as he charged the bolter again, firing smaller bursts at any target that presented itself.

The hatches of the pods shot open, nailing several Orks in the process. Without a moments hesitation fire rained from the gaping holes in the metal objects as the space marines jumped out, spraying bolter fire across the line of open mawed creatures. Blades flashed as they grabbed large knives, slashing and stabbing as they fired their bolters one handed. Streaks of green and red filled the air as the Orks began to retreat, attempting to regroup from the sudden arrival of Astartes warriors. In the thick of combat, a blue armored marine was a typhoon of slashes and lightning as he destroyed those who crossed him, his brilliant force sword slashing easily through the skin of the simple beasts. The marines started to push forward, a squad of them wielding heavy weapons fired seemingly randomly into the receding tides of nightmares.

One marine in particular collected himself and turned to face the cheering guardsmen, visibly changing his gaze from one soldier to another as he started to take carefully planned steps forward. Just above his eyes sat a skull, showing his position as a Sergeant of his chapter. Steele rolled his eyes as guardsmen started to shout curses towards the Orks. While he was not a man of tradition or manners, he knew better than to act such a way in front of space marines. They were a tight knit group of warriors, the guardsmen? They were just soldiers meant to die in the service of their Emperor. However, on rare occasion should a platoon have a service record of noticeable proportions and presented itself accordingly with the greeting of a guest, they would be considered competent. However these weren't normal circumstances, never the less he kept his composure. The marine stopped by his gun nest, emerald eye lenses turned to look down at him.

"Where is your commander?" his powerful voice boomed from the vox unit built into his helmet.

Easily realizing he had been addressed, Steele straightened his composure and gave a curt salute "Behind the lines in the command tent sir,"

The marine took his gaze off of the trooper and looked out at the marines firing a single bolt into any Ork who so much as twitched. Returning his look back towards Steele he turned his body.

"Trooper, your under the command of one General Ferrison correct?"

Steele nodded "Yes sir,"

"Take me to him," he looked over to a squad of marines who returned his gaze and nodded abandoning their current activities and bounding heavily towards the guardsmen. They slowed down to an easy jog as they weaved through the battlements, stopping and checking each one before moving onto the next.

"Everything must be used in the coming battle," the marine answered Steele's unspoken question "the drop pods are going to be stripped of anything useful as to add extra protection to the gun nests and others in your regiment,"

"I'm sure General Ferrison would agree sir," Steele turned and nodded, stepping over his battlement and beginning to walk "this way..." he tried to stop his shaking as he felt the heavy steps of the armored giant behind him.

**General Lee Ferrison **took a deep breath and released it as he heard the gunfire stop. Normally he would have been there, but for now he was needed in the command tent in the pass. He had received word that the Shadow Dragons space marines had arrived and were sending re-enforcements, but he figured that they would have come in a more predictable manner. He laughed as he watched the digital read outs. Thats what he got for under estimating the abilities and combat style of these marines. Of course would any chapter have done it differently? He doubted it. Ferrison looked up towards the entrance as Trooper Steele walked in with one of the armored marines and saluted.

"Sir," he stated as he dropped his arm "this marine has requested an audience with you,"

"Very good Steele let him be," Ferrison dismissed the gunner and turned his attention to the marine "I thank you for coming at such a time, I could have done no better myself,"

A somewhat amused laugh came from the giant as he observed the General "I suppose not General, but we have more pressing issues to worry about than who would have done a better job destroying Orks,"

"Yes I agree..." Ferrison raised his eye brows and rested his hand on his side as he waited for the marine to introduce at least a rank, more preferably a name.

"Sergeant Damion Secerno," he stated plainly as he took two steps before he was in front of the same control panel Ferison was at "I have my marines stripping our pods to be used as extra armor for our entrenchments...as well as digging their own,"

Ferrison thought carefully as Damion stated what his marines were doing "I suppose that will help in the long run, did you see all Sergeant or do you need me to outline anything?"

"Any details will help, whether they are known or not is not the issue," he replied coldly "where are all of your gun turrets set, what vehicles are at your disposal in case we must withdraw, and what weaponry do you have?"

"We have all that you requested, units are stationed here to here...and across this line...later more troops can be brought forward if need be,"

"Yes...tell me General...how reliable are your men with the knowledge that days of constant fighting will be coming? And how prepared are they?" Damion asked turning to face the smaller man.

"They are as reliable as any marine Sergeant...I guarantee you that, however many of my men are rather new to the regiment, they will need time to gain experience,"

"That will be enough for now...later once the rest our forces arrive I would like to see them training and staying fit, the Orks make quick work of the in experienced and weak General, we must ensure that every man is an army in his own right,"

"That sounds like the requirements for a marine,"

"That is a marine,"


	3. First Day

**Bolter fire lashed** out from the entrenched marine positions down into the Ork horde. Heavy bolter fire equally as devastating from the gun teams stationed more strategically in the pass. It had only been an hour since the first group of Shadow Dragons arrived, and moral had improved and it no longer seemed that the guardsmen minded their fatigue or exhaustion, merely wanting to show the Astartes that this regiment was different than any other. The pods which had previously been left on the field of battle had been dragged behind the lines by the Space Marines and the doors were being used to help shield the gunners from the slugs from the Ork shootas. The marines themselves chose the terrain to be their protection for the mean time, deciding their armor was better than drop pod hatches. The Orks simultaneously raised their weapons in the air and let out another "WAAAGH!". The guttural noise cutting through the air as roughly as possible. The defenders braced themselves and continued to fire their weapons. One marine, Sergeant Secerno, stepped over the rock wall he had been behind and rose his chainsword in the air in his left hand, his bolter pointed forward as he fired it in single shell mode.

With a great intake of air, the Sergeant yelled "THROUGH THE FIRE AND FLAMES WE PREVAIL!" and he pushed forward, his powerful legs carrying him forward with the squad of tactical marines behind him into the inevitable melee conflict.

Suddenly entire groups of Orks saw the new chance for some real combat and began to converge on the marines. The Dragons were a flurry of constant motion and violence. Large combat knives of all intricate designs slashed through hardened skin and bone, drawing screams and hollers of pain along with gouts of blood. They fought with a rough and edgy grace that was only obtained with decades upon decades of fighting with their own crafted weapons. Once again the horde was slowly beaten back as the Devastator marines perched on a towering overhang fired their weapons, missiles, bolts, and las blasts firing seemingly randomly into the nearly endless assault. The Orks began to pull back as the minutes wore on. The squad which had thrown themselves at the Orks stood triumphant over a mound of bodies as they sheathed their weapons and fired their bolters at the greenskins, blowing holes in backs or blowing heads completely off. Slowly backpedaling towards the lines, the marine Sergeant marched past the gun nests, a small gash in the front of his armor apparent. But it had not reached his skin, nor did it seem to bother him, as he did not head seek the Adeptus Mechanicus tech priests as others had, instead heading to the command tent.

**Damion walked into **the command tent, his bolter slung over his shoulder and at a resting position by his side. Taking off his helmet he looked around at the assorted staff performing random and various tasks. General Ferrison stood with a guardsmen that Damion recognized as Guardsmen Steele, the one who had been addressed by the giant merely an hour or so previous. Steele walked past the marine with a nod of approval before leaving the tent to get back to his position.

"General, another attack has been repelled, any news on the rest of my company?" He asked as he ran a hand through his brown hair, still cradling his helmet under his arm.

"No, not yet, as far as I know the defenses in the cities are still being ironed out and put into action,"

Damion scowled and replaced his helmet, walking outside again and activating his vox "Brother-Rae," he contacted one of the members of his squad.

There was a moment before a voice replied "Yes sergeant?"

"Contact Captain Lycurgus and find out what the hell is taking the rest of our company so long to reach the pass,"

"Yes sergeant, I'm on it," the line went dead.

Damion sighed and turned, looking up at the mountains behind them which further assisted in the defense of the cities. They could be destroyed to make yet another obstacle for the horde, or they could make another defensive line there. A crackle sounded in his ear piece as the familiar and welcomed voice of Marcus Urteil.

"Damion, we have a slight problem in the plan,"

The small smile fading quickly from his face Damion sighed "What is it Marcus?"

"The trail does not connect to the pass at all, its another route directly to the cities..."

"How much does this affect our previous endeavors?"

"Not much, if anything it provides a better defense in a thinner area...should anything come through, it'll get destroyed with the Emperor's cleansing fire," There were various noises as the guardsmen and marines began to fortify the thin path.

"Acknowledged Marcus, is there any news on the Captain and the position of the rest of the fifth company?"

There was a moment of silence as Marcus thought before replying in a somewhat pleased voice "Yes actually, the numbers have changed however Damion, you won't be getting the rest of our company, other than the twenty two or so you have, you will only be getting fifty to sixty more marines, the Captain is staying with the other companies with a small number of our own and Father-Chaplain Alexander..."

Damion nodded, however struggled to understand Lycurgus's intentions "Alright...anything else brother?"

"Yes sergeant, he has left command of the forces there to you...he does believe and trust in your Damion,"

Damion smiled at the comment and nodded "Aye, the Emperor protects,"

"The Emperor protects," Marcus repeated before cutting the line.

**Three thunderhawks flew** over the quickly changing terrain surrounding the pass, scanning for any dangers before landing on the body ridden fields of the Tyros pass. The ramps dropped and descending from each were the rest of the Shadow Dragons fifth that would be assisting in the defense of the pass. Three tactical squads and three devastator squads hustling to the ever expanding imperial lines. With more marines arriving and the word of Basilisk artillery units on their way along with several rhinos and chimera transports, even a land raider, they had expanded out further into the blood stained ground, tossing the Ork bodies into a pile which was later burned in front of the entrance to the defenders.

Damion continued to oversee the placing of the constantly arriving units and proceeded to put the guardsmen into a fierce training regime with the help of Avery and Elliot. The Orks hadn't attacked for a few hours. And Damion knew that the next fight would be one of the biggest yet. It was only about three o clock in the afternoon when several objects fell and exploded in front of a group of guardsmen who were killed instantly. As the Imperials grabbed their weapons and began to fire, the first major battle for the Tyros pass had begun.

**Captain Lycurgus knelt** in front of the statue of the Emperor. He was already feeling pushed from the preparations that needed to be made to defend the cities. He had complete confidence in his sergeant. Damion was one of the more experienced veteran sergeants of the fifth and had often assisted Lycurgus in planning attacks and defenses before, and should Lycurgus fall during the coming battles, he would assume command. Chaplain Alexander stood next to him, his skull helmet hiding his wise old features. He turned and left as silently as he had come several minutes before, yet even his armor which could hide his body could not hide the confidence in his stride, nor the strength in his stance. Alexander knew each one of his battle brothers well, and just as the Shadow Dragons were rather un-orthodox for their thoughts of redemption through fire, Alexander was considered the same for treating each brother differently. Alexander explained it as this:

"Caring for the spirits of warriors is much like caring for the mind of a toddler. Though in general each toddler can be taught to be a certain way and re-act to certain things, there are better ways to deal with one over another. If in school, more often than not results are gained through support, faith, and care. While others need the knowledge beat into them. In the same aspect of this principle of growing and learning, the needs of each spirit of the Adeptus Astartes is differant, some require the fierce words of the Emperor to march through their ears and into their minds and hearts! While others require quiet recollection of friends, battles, even the sins which they have acquired merely for being born. For such is life."

Lycurgus had taken those words to heart, as he had heard them several decades prior. Even then the good Chaplain seemed old and wise, just as he seemed now. Lycurgus had long known that quiet prayers to the Emperor without words spoken were the best for him. Even the litanies of hate towards those he fought before a battle were bothersome to him. Words spoiled and desecrated the time he required of himself to pray that his own sins be forgiven and that should he die that day his service would be enough. Lycurgus had noticed this much with even Damion, that silence was perfect for the sergeant when needed, although not to the extent that Lycurgus needed. More than once had he heard the fierce words of Alexander being spoken, or even the quiet, faithful, and re-assuring voice drifting through the halls. Such was Damion that not one method was suitable for long, but instead a mix of them all. But Damion did what Lycurgus could never ask of the chaplain. He asked for the help, confessed his worries and doubts, his fears. Slowly his eyes opened after he realized he had closed them, getting up slowly and picking up his bolt pistol and sword he calmly walked out of the chapel, back into the hustle of guardsmen in the streets.

**Damion grunted as **he felt a slug ricochet from his right shoulder guard. He quickly regained his composure and continued to fire his bolter. Feeling the slide click, signaling he was empty, he dropped his current magazine and loaded in a fresh one, pulling back the charging slide and firing again into the horde of Orks. They had been able to get a couple of looted Leman Russ tanks and had tried to run through the marines and guardsmen with them, but had quickly been targeted and taken out by the devastator squads, and were now being used as cover for Orks who were waiting for their turn to charge, or the shoota boyz who preferred not to get shot at as they shot back. He pulled the bolter to his shoulder and aimed down the sight, pulling the trigger and continuing to fire the weapon, targeting Orks straying too far from the main group. Not wanting to take a chance of one of them finding something they were quickly killed before his fire returned to the main group.

"Damion, bikes! Four o clock!" Avery's voice called over the vox.

Tracking along the direction mentioned by Avery he spotted a bike squadron recklessly running over their brethren and over the dead corpses of guardsmen, ork, and marine alike as they drew quickly closer to their position.

"Devastator squad Leviticus! Target the bike squadron!" Damion yelled as he averted his fire to the bikes. Only static came through "LEVITICUS! FIRE ON THOSE EMPEROR DAMNED BIKES!" but no response.

"We have it brother-sergeant," came a collected voice as several rockets launched, supported by a las blast and heavy bolter. In an instant almost half the squadron was destroyed.

"Good job squad Aristos," Damion grinned and reloaded yet again.

"Thank you Brother-Damion!" a response came before a couple more bikes were destroyed.

Damion ushered a silent prayer to the Emperor for the fortune to have multiple battle brothers well equipped in the means to destroy the made of scrap vehicles that the Orks could somehow put into motion. Throwing his fist forward he watched as an Orks face was suddenly there to meet it. His hearts began to race as he realized that slowly the Orks were pushing themselves forward into the lines.

"Scout squad Wier, focus on the Orks approaching our lines!" He yelled into his vox.

"Roger, aiming at forward front of the horde," Sebastian's calm and collected voice replied as suddenly four Orks dropped, bullets in their heads, and another heavy bolter lit up as it sprayed the targets requested.

Damion dropped his bolter and through his arms up as a choppa came down on his arm, cutting slowly into his armor as he was thrown to the ground, the Ork pressing further down and the tip cutting into the left side of his helmet, leaving a scar like mark as it finished and cut under and on top of his eye lens, grunting as he threw his arms up, dislodging the blade in his arm and kicking his feet forward. He felt bones crunch as the Ork flew over a pile of sandbags where he was shot in the head by a marine who then resumed firing at the tide of death. Rolling onto his stomach Damion pushed himself to his feet and scooped up his bolter again, checking the amount of ammo in the magazine he frowned. Roughly only five rounds left. He slammed it home again and turned, firing it back into the group of Orks before pulling his chainsword from it's sheath on his back and using it with both his hands. Slowly moving forward and swinging it right and left, able to dismember without so much as trying. Following his lead several more marines stepped forward with their knives and started to create hand to hand fights in an attempt to draw more Orks towards them than the guardsmen who could continue to fire their weapons at the green skinned beasts. Damion dropped low and swung his sword to the left, cutting off several pairs of legs before spinning back up and bringing his sword with him, cutting fatal wounds to any Ork who surrounded him. He grinned as he held his sword in his right hand and he drew his bolt pistol, pulling the trigger and sending a bolt into an Orks head, the shell detonating in another's stomach. Spinning he found another target quickly and fired again, annihilating the head of a large Nob, blowing it to nothing more than a bloody pulp. More Orks turned to face one of their headless leaders and suddenly they hesitated, unsure for a mere moment if they could continue fighting with one less 'leader'. The marines noticed this and continued to fight with more vigor than before, causing the Orks to move into another frenzy at the prospect of a worthy fight.

**Brother-Librarian Jacob **watched the battle from his perch on a higher up mountain top. Turning his head from left to right he observed the scouts that were perched on top as well, firing down on the Orks without the beasts seeming to notice, more fixated on Damion and the rest of the Shadow Dragons fighting in the enormous melee. Jacob grinned as he watched Orks batter other Orks aside to get to the Astartes warriors, only causing more damage and distress in the horde than anything. Looking down at the sheer size of the drop he mused what a guardsmen or civilian would be thinking on the sight of such a drop. A death defying leap from the spot would only be survivable by a Space Marine or something of equal worth. Even an Eldar, flimsy in figure but strong in mind, might be able to survive a drop of this magnitude. The smile faded from his lips as he thought of the tactical importance barely being exploited in this battle. Something was being with held for whatever reason. Scouts were essential, there was no doubt in Jacob's mind about that, but devastators would be better, entrenched guardsmen, possibly some artillery, anything more than one scout sniper squad.

He then thought of the basilisks that had been brought in but were not being used yet, as well as the Storm Troopers provided by the Nambosa regiment fighting with the brothers of the Shadow Dragons. An approving nod was given as Jacob realized that Damion was using what they needed to make it through the coming battles, not what he needed to make the first battles easier. The Storm Troopers had been rigorously training with several squads of the regular guardsmen, getting more physically fit for the coming fights. And as he recalled he had noticed the large guns of the Basilisk artillery units being slowly brought up to the cliff top where Jacob now was standing.

"I believe it is time for me to join them Brothers..." Jacob gripped the hilt of his sword as he took a step forward, coming to the lip "cease fire until you see the smoking bodies of Orks..."

Fire stopped from the scouts as they obeyed the order from the Librarian, watching with smiles as he took three large steps backward before taking a running start, plummeting down into the green tide. He slammed down on two Orks, feeling bones break beneath his iron treads he immediately spun to the left, unsheathing his force sword and making an upper cut motion, effectively dissecting a group of surprised Orks. Spreading his fingers Jacob released a flow of lightening from them into another group of Orks, frying their skin and stopping the beat of their hearts. After he did so, the scouts continued to fire. Taking two steps forward he reversed his grip and started to use the sword with both hands, taking off his left hand only to fry more of the horrifying green skins. Panicking at the sudden aspect several turned to the Librarian only to be cut down where they once stood. As the sun around Tyros set, the green skins once again retreated.

**Steele moaned and** got into a fighting position as he once again was fighting one of his squad mates, the experience claiming to be needed by the guardsmen. It was a competition, fights within the squads first, and the winners of those move on to fight the others. Eventually one would prove better than the others, given they don't die before they get the chance to earn the prize of a promotion and leave from the battlefield, at least the current one. He side stepped as Salem swung a fist at his right side, grabbing his arm and throwing him at the extra sand bags that had been set up in a box formation, presenting a fighting ring. Fellow guardsmen cheered and several space marines watched the conflict, their battle hardened faces grinning as they watched the two last competitors in this squad fight with all of their strength. Intricate motions followed as close of a fighting style to the Shadow Dragons as could be possible by two guardsmen. It roused great enjoyment from all involved, other than the losers who had been left with powerful spot lights to guard the pass and anything else. The scouts often took turns watching between matches as they rotated in shifts, allowing rest and a little relaxation before returning to more serious business as their shift began.

Salem paused for a minute before charging forward and ducking a right swing from Steele, swinging his elbow to the right, nailing the gunner in the side. He grunted and grabbed the younger soldier's arm, swinging him around and letting go, letting Salem run into the sandbags, flipping over them. He laid for a minute before pushing himself to his feet and jumping back over the bag, running at Steele and faking a right hook, jabbing with his left hand. Grunting, Steele took the hit and grabbed his left arm, spinning him so that his back faced the gunner, wrenching his arm behind his back and reaching his feet forward, pulling back after hooking it around his legs and throwing Salem to the ground, placing his foot firmly on his back and grabbed his hair and pulling his head off the ground, pulling a knife and putting it to his neck.

Grinning he put the knife back "He's dead," he said simply as the guardsmen began cheering and exchanging money from their bets "right Salem?".

"You old bastard..." Salem started to do push ups, as per rule of the Nambosa regiment, for the loser of any sparring match was forced to do one hundred push ups with the winner's ten pound boot on their back as well as their weight "I...can get you next time..." he groaned.

Steele smiled "Next time, maybe, if we both live that long,"

"**Desecration, Decadence...Death,**" The armored figure stated as he walked around the circle of incapacitated Shadow Dragons marines. Four were strung from the wall, chains around their wrists, ankles, and waist. And their Sergeant, lay on a table in the center of the burned out broken down building, trying to break his bindings to free his brothers and kill those who had captured them. "That is all that you face..."

"Traitor! If not me then my brothers will destroy you and those foolish enough to follow the dark gods!" the Sergeant screamed.

"I'm sure that they will...but you see...there is a greater plan than you realize..." The Sorcerer continued to walk in circles "and...you see...you shall not die here, for that would deny the first and third phases of your transition to the warp..."

Five figures walked into the room, evil grins on their deformed faces, knives out and twirling as they eagerly anticipated what was to come "and we can not completely get rid of your body for that would deny the second...it is all in steps don't you see," he tilted his head and stopped at the twelve o clock location, right above the sergeants head. The Sorcerer calmly reached down and pulled the marine back so that his head was over the edge of the table, the marine's will alone keeping stopping it from going limp "and that would as well...take a certain level of enjoyment out of it..."

In one swift motion, the Sorcerer pulled his staff into the air before bringing it down on the Shadow Dragon's head, breaking it downwards, unleashing a scream of immense pain. While his neck snapped, and death should have come, he remained alive, blood being coughed out of his open mouth. One of the figures walked into the light towards the sergeant, bringing his knife down onto his chest, piercing through his armor and rib cage, raking it down to his pelvis. Carving horizontally across the vertial cut, the traitorous marine created a gruesome rendition of a cross, blood flowing too fast for the enhanced blood to clot. Punching through the center and pulling his hands apart, the armor breaking under the traitor's immense grip, his rib cage spreading apart and splintering violently. The Sergeant would have yelled and screamed in pain, and for some time he did, and the marines of the Alpha Legion savored the sick engrossing sound that was brought forth from his vocal chords. In a seemingly ritualized practice, the Sorcerer grabbed the intricate knife that belonged to the Shadow Dragon, cutting his jaw vertically down to gain access to his tongue, cutting it out along with a section of his throat. The now voiceless marine screamed in unheard agony, his eyes nearly bulging from his head as the pain reducers in his body and his blood failed to dull the drawn out torture being inflicted. His eyes were next, the knife used to destroy his vocal abilities being used to tear out his optics, leaving bleeding holes where golden eyes used to be. Slowly other parts of him were dismembered as his brothers were forced to watch what would soon be happening to them. His legs were first, being broken before cut off at the knees. His wrists were broken and every other finger cut off, then his forearm was shattered along with his shoulder, leaving mangled versions of what used to be.

"Desecration..." the Sorcerer gave an evil laugh as he removed his helmet and reached down, licking the blood being wept by the marine "next shall be Decadence..." the marine in the center stepped back and removed his helmet before licking his blade clear and giving himself a cut across the face as he began to chant unholy blasphemes towards the blood god.

"Then finally will you be released to our dark gods in Death...but even then your pain shall not end...it will only get worse..."

There were uniform screams as the other Shadow Dragons began to be worked on by the other four Alpha Legionnaires. The chaos sorcerer known as Dimitri grinned viciously as he watched the suffering of his mislead brothers, looking at the heavy weapons left just below them, showing how close they could have been to actually killing him if they had been strong enough to break free "but only in death...by the hands of decadence can you truly learn to appreciate the dark gods for the magnificent beings they are...and only then will you wish you learned to worship them as we have..."


End file.
